


One Year Later

by smileynerd256



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Connor visits his grave, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hank died in Cyberlife Tower, Hurt/Comfort, This Is Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 07:43:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17463410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smileynerd256/pseuds/smileynerd256
Summary: Connor pays an overdue visit to a long-lost friend.





	One Year Later

**Author's Note:**

> I came up with this terrible, angsty idea at 1am. I come up with a lot of terrible, angsty ideas at 1am, but this one stuck.

    Connor stood in front of the grave, Sumo’s leash limp in his hand, eyeing the inscription.

  
  


Hank Anderson

September 6, 1985- November 11, 2038

  
  


    “Hi, Hank,” he began with a sad smile. “It's...been awhile.” 

 

    Today was November 11th, 2039. It had been a year.

 

    “Sorry I couldn't visit sooner.” He could have, he’d just...found it difficult. 

 

    As Hank had once put it, “Emotions f***ed up everything.” He’d put it off because every time the thought crossed his mind, a mixture of what he’d come to recognize as guilt and grief and...possibly an unwillingness to move on had clawed at his processors and created an almost painful pressure near his thirium pump. 

 

    And it wasn't as if he’d been doing nothing. 

 

    “Markus asked me to help him establish Android rights. Most of it’s been proofreading legal documents and going to meetings with Congress and Cyberlife.  It’s been difficult, but we’ve made a lot of progress.”

 

    Sumo whined. Connor knelt down to scratch behind his ears.

 

    “I applied to work at the DPD again. It...it won't be the same without you.” Hank’s old desk was still empty. Connor had checked, when he’d gone in to talk to Captain Fowler. So was the one across from it. 

 

    An awful, choked feeling clenched his chest and overwhelmed his vocal processor as a few tears slipped down his cheeks. “I miss you, Hank.” He bit back a sob. “I miss you so much, I wish…” He wished he had intervened before RK800-60 had shot him. He wished he hadn't called the bluff, he wished he had realized his successor’s lack of mercy before it was too late. He had hoped, in that crucial moment, that their shared memories would be enough to keep RK800-60 from pulling the trigger.

 

    He was wrong, and it had cost him his closest friend.

 

    He pressed a hand over Hank’s name engraved in the stone. “I’m sorry.”

 

    Sumo shoved his snout in Connor’s face, licking at his cheeks. Connor wrapped his arms around the dog and buried his face in his fur. “You miss him too, don't you?”

    Sumo whined and sniffed the headstone.

 

    Connor had done extensive research about what happened to humans after death. The results had several common elements despite being mere speculation. Beliefs, mostly religious in nature, had formed in various cultures and been passed down through generations of tradition, but the finer points were contradictory between the different groups. All beliefs about life after death lacked any real proof and were ultimately inconclusive. 

 

    Hank was gone. There was no bringing him back. Yet there was something...almost comforting about talking to Hank like this. Like he could still somehow hear Connor from...wherever he was. 

 

    It didn't make a lot of sense; there was nothing very rational about it. But Connor had come to accept that not everything had to make sense or be rational.

 

    He took a few minutes to pull himself together, and stood. “I-I’ll be back. I...I miss you, Hank.” 

 

    He stood and straightened his tie--a multicolored stripey thing reminiscent of Hank’s terrible taste in clothing--and made his way back to the parking lot.

 

    Markus was waiting with a taxi, already finished with his visit to Carl’s grave. “Hey.” He clasped Connor’s shoulder. “You okay?”

 

    Connor swallowed, and met his gaze. “Are you?”

 

    Marcus gave him a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. “Right now? No. But I will be.”

 

    Connor nodded, but frowned. “I don't know. If I will be, I mean.” He fiddled with Sumo’s leash. “How do you do it?”

 

    Marcus sighed. “One day at a time. Come on, let's go back to New Jericho before it gets too cold.” He gestured toward the taxi.

 

    Connor herded Sumo in before taking a seat himself. “Have a new draft that I need to look over?”

 

    “Actually, I thought we could play some Monopoly.”

 

    Connor smiled, and it almost reached his eyes. “As long as I get to be the battleship.”

 


End file.
